


Lost in the Hinterlands

by skepticallysighing



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Miscommunication, One-Sided Relationship, Other, Pining, Rejection, Sad Ending, Unrequited Love, henchperson is named orlando
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27879825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skepticallysighing/pseuds/skepticallysighing
Summary: After the attempt to capture the Baudelaires in the Reptile Room goes south, Fernald takes the troupe to a motel right by Lachrymose Lake. He's faced with the hardest challenge any person can be faced with -- letting go of the people who hurt you and opening up to the people who will love you.
Relationships: Fernald | The Hook-Handed Man/Count Olaf, Fernald | The Hook-Handed Man/The Henchperson of Indeterminate Gender
Kudos: 5





	1. Drive Away

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote a brief fanfic and said "this really is not very good, so let's give it one more try" and it was slightly better.
> 
> "Drive Away (End Title)" -- Thomas Newman

“That went well,” Orlando said blankly as they turned the corner and watched the Montgomery House disappear for good.

“It most certainly did not!” snapped one of the white-faced women. Orlando wasn’t bothered to see which one it was, Miriam or Agnes, because they were busy looking out the window with hazy eyes. Anyways, whichever of the twins she was, she was right. Their unsuccessful capture of the Baudelaires had most certainly not gone well.

Orlando left a very important audition in order to make it to the latest capture of the Baudelaires. They had seriously considered telling Count Olaf they were busy, but they were a bit of a pushover when it came to Count Olaf’s needs.

And the costume was stupid. Nurses stopped wearing these kinds of dresses and caps by the 1990s, and it was...well, whatever year it was right now, it was a year where nurses were wearing pantsuits at the bare minimum. The oversexualization of nurses in the media was a real problem. And the shoes were impractical for walking.

At least Fernald had brewed them a cup of coffee in the house. Orlando turned their head away from the rear window to look into the front seat, where Fernald was driving. They only got a moment’s glance before John was talking and they were distracted.

“Don’t be hard on yourself,” said John, the tall man, to Miriam, or maybe Agnes. Despite being crammed into the back of the small van with them, he looked happy enough. Orlando didn’t have a clue how John always kept that ditzy, friendly look on his face. “I think you ladies put on a great show.”

Orlando smiled a little as Agnes (maybe) dramatically accepted the praise and started rambling about her acting strategy, but they felt a little too spacy right now to give any constructive feedback. They wanted to get home and take off this ridiculous, historically-inaccurate dress.

Going back to staring out the window, they felt a little better when they began recognizing the road. They were back on Lousy Lane, they had passed the radish farm, so that meant the next turn would take them back into the city.

They drove past the next turn.

Brow furrowing, they looked back up to the front of the van where Fernald was driving.

“I think you missed the turn,” they called up to him, interrupting Agnes (“rude!” she said.)

“We’re not going that way,” Fernald called right back.

“Wh- excuse me,” Orlando said to John, using the tall man’s knee to hoist themself up and crawl forward. The van was a rickety one on a bumpy road, which made balancing while they moved hard.

Once they had gotten themselves up to the front, they rested their arms over the passenger-seat’s headrest to keep their balance and to get a good look at Fernald.

“Hey, sit back down, I’m driving,” Fernald ordered, eyes focused on the road ahead.

“Why aren’t we going back to town?” Orlando asked, undeterred.

“Because The Boss wants us to go to Lake Lachrymose.”

“What? I-...when did he say that?”

“He said it to me when you were getting in the van.”

“Cool. But, can you just drop me off at my apartment so I can get my things first?”

Fernald looked away from the road and dished out a mean stare.  _ Even with that dumb hat and the mannequin hands overtop of his hooks _ , Orlando thought,  _ he still seemed scary. _

“Look, can you just go sit down? We don’t have enough gas to make it back into town anyways,” he said, frustration edging his voice. 

They frowned. That was a little more complicated. “I’m not trying to be annoying, but we can c-”

The van swerved violently when Fernald tugged the wheel sharply. Orlando jumped, smacking their head on the top of the van. The historically-inaccurate cap was flattened immediately.

The Nurse drew in a breath so quickly and quietly, mismatching one of the white-faced womens’ wild scream, and Fernald felt like an asshole right away. He kept his eyes off the road, making sure they weren’t actually hurt.

Fernald didn’t want to hurt anyone. He just- they were just pushing, and he just wanted to get to that town right now. He just...he just wanted to give Nurse a little scare, but now they were rubbing their head and giving him the most resentful look.

That was fine. They were fine. He just gave them a little scare. Fernald pushed his flittering worries down, keeping up the act with a mean smile. Acting, just acting.

“Are you finished?” he said in his best mocking-teasing voice.

Nurse was quiet now. They drew away into the back of the van.

Fernald let out a little sigh, ignoring how his brain screamed  _ you’re a bad person! _

In truth, Fernald had no clue where to go. The Boss said he was going to international waters, and the closest thing he could think of was Lake Lachrymose. Clearly, The Boss wanted them to go wait close to those international waters, for sure. It’s all he could think of.

Anyways, where would he go without The Boss?


	2. Nine of Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orlando has a nightmare and Fernald does nothing helpful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "November Has Come" - Gorillaz

Fernald had been awake for a while when The Nurse sat up straight in the middle of the night.

He hadn’t been super excited to share a room with them, not after scaring them in the van. God, he still felt awful about that. But, if he apologized, then he would never be able to make them listen to him again, right?

Right.

Anyways, The Tall Man needed his own room and The White-Faced Women were kinda creepy. Further, there was no budget for more rooms. The troupe would need to discuss their budget tomorrow. If they planned to live at this lakeside motel for a while, they’d need a way to pay for rooms and food, right?

And more importantly, where was The Boss? He said international waters, but did he mean these international waters, or a separate-but-adjacent international waters? What if Fernald made the wrong choice, and he never saw The Boss again? What if-

He stared at Nurse while he thought about all of this.

The lighthouse would shine in the window, cast them in light, and then turn back into darkness. It was repetitive and stable, and Fernald could almost breathe to the rhythm of it.

But Fernald’s heart dropped when, as the light flashed again, The Nurse woke up from a nightmare.

Nurse shot up straight, their cry muffled immediately by their own hand jumping over their mouth. Dark again, they tried their hardest to control their breathing. Light again, and they were still sitting there with their hand over their mouth.

Fernald didn’t know what to do.

He sighed loudly.

The Nurse shut up immediately, eyes darting over to him. Fernald quickly shut his own eyes, but it had worked. Nurse had remembered they weren’t alone and that their crying might wake their roommate up. It was mean, but hey, it made them stop crying, right?

Right?

_ Oh god, I’m a terrible person. _

Fernald kept his eyes closed and listened to Nurse as they laid back down. Soon, their shaky breath slowed down, its now-even rhythm lining up with the flashes of the lighthouse. 

Fernald fell asleep listening to their breaths.


	3. Hear Me Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fernald and Orlando come to an agreement about staying at the motel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hear Me Out" - Huerco S.

“I’m not staying here.”

“Come on, you’re not even listening to what I’m saying! You already decided what you wanted to do before I even started talking!”

“Oh, like you listened when I asked you to drop me off?”

Miriam, Agnes, and John sat comfortably on the grass outside the van, enjoying the morning sunrise while watching Fernald and Orlando argue. The van’s back doors were opened-wide so Orlando could sit in the van’s and let their feet dangle over the sandy grass. They had rummaged through the disguises in the van and found a blue turtleneck, looking quite content to drown in the oversized layers. They didn’t flinch at Fernald pacing in front of them. The hook-handed man was wearing the same oversized coat he always did. The two were arguing over what to do next, go back to town or stay at the motel. Fernald kept saying that Olaf wanted them to wait here, Orlando kept saying that they just wanted to go back to town. The troupe didn’t really mind what happened next, because while it was always nice to go home, if Count Olaf said to wait in the motel town, that was a good reason to wait. That’s what Fernald was trying to convince Orlando, that they should-

“-wait here until The Boss picks us up,” Fernald insisted, hooks deep in  **his** pockets. “He’ll know this is where we’ll be, and he’ll need us ready for action when he gets back, so- You’re not even listening to me!”

“No, I-” Orlando looked up and stopped playing with their sleeve. “I  _ hear _ you, and I  _ get _ where you’re coming from, but  _ I _ just think it’s unrealistic to stay here. It’s, like, a nice sentiment, but I personally can’t afford to just stay indefinitely at a motel.”

“Neither do I -- that’s why we’ll get jobs in town.”

“That’s not the point, the point is that we figuratively (they meant literally) don’t know how long we’d be here.”

“Well, that’s-” Fernald scrunched his mouth up. “That’s a sacrifice we have to make.”

“I’ve always wanted to work a job,” Agnes told John and Miriam, “and I  _ did _ see a nice fried-egg-sandwich restaurant on the way into town.”

“Oh, that sounds delicious,” smiled John.

“I have houseplants that need to be watered,” Orlando protested, running out of reasons to make Fernald see why they should leave. “You want me to just let them go thirsty?”

“I don’t- look,  _ Nurse _ , I’m not trying to make you upset. This isn’t what this is about.”

Orlando scoffed.

“You know, fried-egg-sandwich shops usually have pepper containers that nobody’s watching,” Miriam said slyly. “We could just... _ take them... _ ”

While the rest of the troupe made plans, Fernald stepped in close to Orlando and pulled one of the doors half-shut, effectively boxing the two of them in and blocking the troupe out. Orlando leaned back and looked away, not wanting to be any closer than they had to be.

“Listen, I…” Fernald began, trying to find the words. “When we were driving, I shouldn’t’ve done that to you. I’m sorry.”

Orlando’s eyes flicked up suspiciously. They had been bracing themselves for a threat, not an apology. “...It scared me.”

“I know, I meant to scare you, but I shouldn’t’ve. I didn’t...I was overwhelmed, and I didn’t know what to do.”

“You could’ve pulled over and talked to me. We could have had this conversation yesterday.”

“You’re right.”

Orlando blinked their surprise.

“I should’ve pulled over. My head’s clearer now, so it makes sense when I’m thinking about it now, but yesterday, I just- I didn’t want to drive back into town.” He considered it. “I can’t go back without him.”

“Of course you can, you have your own place, right?”

“No, I mean-” Fernald licked his lip as he tried to find the words to explain why, emotionally, he needed to wait for Count Olaf without sounding overemotional. “It wouldn’t be right.”

Orlando considered this, fingertips coming to play with their sleeve again They weren’t going to win with logic because logic wasn’t what Fernald had made the call to go to the motel with. 

“...I hear you.”

“Yeah?” Fernald asked, his gaze and voice softening just a smidge.

“Yeah,” Orlando said quietly. “So, let’s say we stay here. What do we do?”

“I was thinking about it last night,” Fernald said quickly, eyes lighting up. “We get jobs. I’m thinking maybe the motel or one of the restaurants in town. It’s hurricane season here, so that means that all the regular employees are probably somewhere safer than here.”

Orlando saved their snip about how, maybe, they could be safer too if they left.

“We can...we can stay for now. But, if Count Olaf isn’t back in let’s say ‘a week’, let’s go back into town and decide what to do. Deal?”

“Deal.”


	4. I See Myself as "Getting Back on Track"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orlando and Fernald go shopping for fish and bond over being nerds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Humility" - Gorillaz

“I think we should get that one,” Fernald decided, gesturing to the salmon.

“Isn’t that the most expensive fish?” Orlando asked skeptically. That didn’t mean much, since all the fish here in the marketplace cost way more than Orlando personally would spend on fish. 

They didn’t even want to be here -- when they got to the marketplace, they had intended to stay with John, but John and the twins had excused themselves and disappeared into the crowd. (You and I know the three had found the fried-egg-sandwich shop and its unguarded pepper, but neither Orlando nor the fried-egg-sandwich shopkeeper knew what misery this small town would personally bring them.) Orlando told themselves that they’d join the others the moment they could, but for now, they’d stick with Fernald. Just for now.

Fernald didn’t acknowledge the rest of the troupe disappearing, instead pushing past the crowds. He moved so fast that Orlando almost wished he’d reach back and offer a hook to grab onto. Orlando wasn’t much for walking fast, and their feet still hurt from those awful Nurse-Lucafont shoes that weren’t designed for any person to walk in. Thankfully, before they could lose track of him, Fernald stopped in front of a huge fish stand. He didn’t say anything for a bit, but as Orlando glanced from the stand to the hook-handed man, they recognized a man making an educated decision.

“Yes, definitely, but I feel like that’s alright with lake bass,” Fernald said.

Orlando nodded. So it wasn’t salmon. “Oh. Do they taste super good or something?”

“No, but it’s good for the community. Lake bass only live close to the lake-shoreline, so it’s just the local fisherman catching ‘em and not the big companies.”

“Oh,” Orlando said again, their voice tinted with just a bit more interest. “I didn’t know you had politics.”

Fernald breathed quickly out through his nose in a way that could’ve been a laugh. “It’s not really  _ politics _ . I only know about it ‘cause I used to live by the water.”

“This water?”

“Different water. I’ve never been here before,” Fernald admitted, looking around at the houses. Orlando glanced around too, unable to help the smile that crossed their face. It was a cute town, for sure.

“Well, I still like that you support local business.”

Fernald shrugged as he paid for the fish, but he was smiling. 

As the two moved to the next vendor to get some butter, Orlando spoke up again. “Which water did you live by before?”

“Oh, just...just The Sea,” he said. “Do you know where the Mediocre Barrier Reef is?”

“No, sorry. What were you doing all the way out over a reef?”

“It doesn’t really matter what I was doing specifically,” he said quickly, his voice growing tighter. Orlando was ready to drop it, but then the hook-handed man added, “Just some marine biology research.”

“Oh!”

Fernald looked up in surprise, not expecting that reaction.

“Sorry-” they apologized quickly, voice dropping down into its flat drone. “I did a lot of research back in college, and you- well, it just made me think of that.”

“Yeah?” he smiled. “What were you researching?”

“Just sociology stuff, y’know, looking back at records and trying to pull together some quasi-experiments from them. Nothing as hands on as what you were doing-...uh, sorry-”

Their face heated up, but Fernald waved his hooks dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. It was hands-on research back then,” he said grimly, and Orlando couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not so they just offered a small smile.

For a second, they caught sight of the twins and John in the crowd. However, for some reason, the urge to ditch Fernald and run to join them didn’t feel so strong anymore.

“Could you tell me more about the kind of fish that would live on a lakeshore like this one?”

Fernald lit up.


	5. Pretty Soon ima Need Somebody to Lean On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orlando and Fernald are supportive of each other and it's just very nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Lean On Me - Live at Carnegie Hall" - Bill Withers

“Okay, uh...favorite opera?”

“Nobody has a favorite opera, Nurse.”

“Okay, fine, any opera you can name?”

Fernald let out a sigh, taking a break from cleaning and sitting down on the bed. The guest bedroom he and Nurse had been tasked with cleaning as part of their motel job was almost all the way tidied up, and a good thing too. They kept the door open so the room could get that nice, clean, aired-out smell, but it made the room so cold. Fernald wore a warm jacket everyday, but The Nurse was wearing a costume blouse and a decorative scarf. That made him want to work harder; if they worked fast and cleaned up this room, then maybe he could get Nurse somewhere warmer. Back to their own room, or maybe back into town to get something warm to eat.

If he had hands that weren’t so scary, and he knew Nurse better, maybe he’d be the kind of person who could rub someone else’s arms the way guyfriends do and say  _ I’m so cold just looking at you! _ But, Nurse wasn’t a guyfriend, Fernald didn’t know them well enough that he could do  _ that _ , Nurse would probably flinch away if he got close with his hooks, and Fernald wasn’t that guy of guy who could just do that anyways. 

When Nurse paused their cleaning and looked over at Fernald, he quickly realized they were waiting for an answer.

“Phantom of the Opera?”

“Mm,” they said reflectively, seeming to accept the answer, as they went back to cleaning. “It’s more of an operatic musical.”

Fernald didn’t really know what kind of answer to give, so he said: “What’s your favorite ballet?”

They had been playing this what’s-your-favorite game all morning. After they bought the fish a day or two ago, talking to each other felt effortless. Fernald liked talking and he liked listening, he loved  _ conversation _ and  _ sharing ideas, _ and while Nurse tried to decide on a favorite ballet, he thought  _ I missed having someone to talk to. This is nice _ . 

He had learned a lot about Nurse, specifically about their political beliefs and their passion for romance novels.  _ Lost in the Hinterlands _ was their favorite, a series about a cowboy and a businessman falling in love after defecting from their acting troupe. Nurse spent way too much time expressing how much they loved this book. They put a lot of emphasis on the fact that this book was just a romance novel with no smut in it anywhere. However, when Fernald asked to look at it, they quickly said they had lost it.

“I mean, I’ll always love Swan Lake,” they said thoughtfully. “‘Cause, who doesn’t? But, I really love Giselle.”

“Really?” Fernald prompted as he leaned forward, wanting to hear them talk more. “So, you like sad endings?”

“It’s not like that,” Nurse protested, stopping their cleaning and instead sitting down on the bed opposite Fernald. “I don’t like sad things, I like tragic things. Everything’s more romantic when there’s a glimpse of hope, don’t you think?”

“Oh, uh- I don’t know a lot about  _ that _ .”

“You don’t know a lot about romance, Fernald?” they quipped, and though their voice kept that same, flat tone, Fernald thought they were teasing him.

“No! I know a lot about romance!” he said too quickly. “I just, I didn’t think of tragedies like that before. I guess things are probably sadder when there’s hope, but I don’t know about romantic-er.”

“That’s a very fair way to look at it,” they mused, and Fernald felt a little proud that his original thought got that kind of reception from them.

The two were quiet for a little bit. The Nurse looked deep in thought, and Fernald let them think, pretending he was thinking about something too.

“I wanted to do ballet when I was a kid,” Nurse said suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you?”

“I, uh,” they glanced downwards and away. “I’m not built for it.”

Fernald immediately knew what they meant.

He followed his first instinct, reaching out and setting his hook over Nurse’s free hand. Nurse inhaled sharply, and the second they did, Fernald felt like panicking, because Nurse must be so scared of his hook-- 

However, the panic didn’t last more than a heartbeat. Nurse turned their hand to hold his hook, their thumb threading between the two prongs. The hand they used to grab their stomach came away, and Nurse tenderly held his hook with both hands. Even though Fernald couldn’t physically feel it, it was the closest thing to holding hands he had experienced in a very long time.

When their eyes met again, Fernald gave that tight-lipped smile we give to those we know are also struggling with something, a body-hating solidarity we dysmorphics and dysphorics always seem to share. When Nurse nodded their solidarity back, they sniffled. The sniffle let Fernald know that this moment was affecting them just as much as it was affecting him.

“Sorry,” they said quietly, eyes darting back down. “I don’t usually get like this.”

“You’re okay,” Fernald promised, feeling so good that he could support them like this. It always felt amazing to be able to support someone and share a moment like this with them. For a while, it had only been The Boss, but if The Nurse needed someone to hold’em up, he was happy to.

“And,” he continued, “From one henchperson to another, I get what’s it’s like to not like your body. I’m not going to say that you’re wrong and that you look exactly like everyone else, ‘cause I know better than anyone that doesn’t mean shit.”

Nurse made a breathy sound that might’ve been a laugh, looking back up.

“But, what I can tell you is that I think you’re…” he hesitated, looking for the words. “I think you’re pretty, or handsome, I don’t know what you like hearing.” 

Fernald paused to give them a chance to tell him their preference, but they were watching him with wobbly eyes and slowly-rosying cheeks, and he kept talking. 

“Anyways, after we get out of this town, if you ever want to go dancing, I’d take you. Y’know, if you could stand to be seen with me,” he added quickly, holding up his free hook to try to lighten the heavy words.

Nurse smiled, all pink when they rubbed a tear off their face with the heel of their hand and said: “I’d like that.”

Fernald’s heart jumped in his chest, and he smiled right back.


	6. It's Too Cold For You Here/Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fernald gets a little sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Putting a Spin on Sweater Weather" - Egg

Orlando paused in the doorway, looking outside of the cabin.

He was back.

See, Fernald had been acting a little different. He had asked a lot of questions about  _ Lost in the Hinterlands _ , the smutty book Orlando had been filling their freetime with. When they had talked about it before, Orlando had lied that it was a super clean, fluffy, romantic book, and when Fernald asked if he could look at it, they made up a quick excuse about how they had lost it. However, today Fernald had been asking about which books Orlando had and hadn’t read. It was a little weird, but Orlando tried to do their best at explaining what they couldn’t and could.

Then, Fernald had disappeared into the marketplace all day long.

Orlando had carried on cleaning, but it wasn’t the same without him there. It was much more lonely. The twins and John were employed at (had taken over) the fried-egg-sandwich shop, so Orlando was all by themselves as they cleaned up the uncared-for rooms. When they stepped out of one completely clean cabin to move on to the next, that’s when they finally caught sight of Fernald.

The hook-handed man was sitting way out past the road, past the van, right at the edge of the lake where rocks jutted up from the cliffside.

Orlando dropped the broom they had been carrying, not wasting a second as they made a beeline for him. It was colder now that the sun was setting, so they stopped by the van and gathered up a blanket. They knocked over a package that had been wrapped up in brown paper, something that looked ambiguous enticing. 

They’d look at it later.

For now, they came to the cliffside and carefully sat down besides him.

“Hi.”

He grunted acknowledgement

“It’s kind of cold, so, uh-” they felt stupid, but continued. “Do you want a blanket?”

Fernald jerked his head in a small nod. Orlando swooped the blanket around, pulling it over his friend’s shoulders. They then looked back out at the lake, wondering what Fernald had been doing that day. What was he thinking about now?

“You don’t have to stay out here with me, it’s cold,” he said, voice so low that it almost wouldn’t register.

“Do you want me to go?”

Fernald sighed deeply, lifting up the side of the blanket. “C’mon. If you’re staying, get over here.”

Orlando smiled a bit, scooting in next to him. The two sat there, looking over the lake in each other’s company. It was a little warmer like this, when they could sit side-by-side.

The sun was going down over the lake, sinking below the waves. Their shadows stretched out behind them as nighttime made its rounds. They really should go to the cabin soon. The lakeside air was colder at night.

Right before they were about to suggest going inside and having dinner, Fernald spoke.

“I lied to you.”

“Huh?” Orlando racked their brain quickly. About the cold? About-  _ not about what he said the day before, right? When he had told Orlando he thought they were attractive and that they’d go dancing with them one day, he wouldn’t...would he, because that had made Orlando feel better about themselves than anything had in such a long time- _

“About Count Olaf.”

Their thoughts came to a halt.

“Count Olaf?”

Fernald kept his gaze on the sunset. “He never said we should come here. He said he was going into international waters, and I just-...I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t want to disappoint him.”

Oh.

Orlando considered it, playing with their sleeve. “I’m not surprised he’d put us in this situation. You’re pretty one-track minded for him, aren’t you?”

In the last minutes of light, they could tell Fernald was blushing.

“He’s my family,” he told Orlando, the delicacy with which he said it turning it into a confession more than a statement. “He’d do the same for me.”

Orlando didn’t think so, but they didn’t say that right now.

“Well, I’m not surprised he gave us no plans to go off of,” Orlando said, trying to lighten the tone just a bit. “That’s pretty in character for him.”

“I don’t know your name,” Fernald said quickly.

“I like to be called Orlando,” they answered, trying not to think about it too hard.

“But I-...I didn’t ask. I’ve thought of you as Nurse this whole time, I didn’t care, and you- you knew my name.”

Of course Fernald wouldn’t know their name, because he only paid attention to Count Olaf. But, Orlando didn’t think this was the time to say that.

“Well, just start thinking of me as Orlando, okay?”

Fernald sighed quietly. “Yeah. Will do.”

“C’mon, let’s get inside, it’s freezing.”

The sun glowed a little more, like a persistent fire on The Sea, before it was covered up by the horizon.

Orlando didn’t like the way Fernald loved Count Olaf, but they were a decent actor, so the jealousy was easily covered up with a smile.

On the way back, Orlando threw the blanket back into the van. The package, wrapped in brown paper and with “To Nurse” written clumsily across it, was covered up by the blanket.


	7. Hands Getting Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rejection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "idontwannabeyouanymore" - Billie Eilish

“Oh, hey, careful-”

Fernald took Orlando’s hand in his hook, carefully helping them down from the rocks and onto the sand. 

“You baby me,” they teased, carefully finding their footing. Even once they had stepped off the path and onto the beach with him, Orlando kept holding his hook, and that really made Fernald’s heart spin in his chest

“That’s what you get for looking like a baby,” Fernald teased, and though he felt it was a stupid thing to say, it still made Orlando laugh.

They had just come back from the fried-egg-sandwich restaurant. The two had put on their nicest clothes, Orlando wearing that stupid scarf and a blouse with the widest sleeves Fernald had ever seen, and Fernald wearing the exact same coat he wore everyday. It felt nice to take them out to dinner (or, was he taken out to dinner?) And going down to the beach after? Super nice. They were having such a nice time, that they didn’t recognize the new owners of the fried-egg-sandwich restaurant.

The lighthouse spun lazily, lighting them up every few seconds through the pre-storm weather.

“You think a hurricane’s ever gonna come?” Fernald asked them.

“Yeah,” Orlando said, letting go of his hand to pull off their shoes. They sighed and walked across the cold sand, and Fernald just watched them fondly. They looked so happy, and that made him so happy. It felt good, to be able to...not take care of someone, exactly, but something like that. When the lighthouse lit them up?

Good stuff.

“You think it’ll be soon or just someday in the future?”

He couldn’t see them when the lighthouse beamed away.

“You ask me so many questions.”

Fernald balked, mind racing. Oh, shit, had he been too nosy. Too chatty, too unappealing, and now Orlando knew he was-

He was silent long enough that, when the lighthouse came back, he could see Orlando looking back with concern.

“It’s not a problem,” they said, darkness again. “I just don’t understand why you ask me questions.”

“Huh?” he wasn’t following.

“I’m not important or interesting, I don’t do anything,” they said, voice so delicate that it made Fernald’s heart surge. “You’re more interesting than me.”

“You’re being hard on yourself,” Fernald told them, coming to meet them and taking one of their hands. “I like listening to what you have to say. You’re a  _ thinker _ .”

Orlando let out a weak laugh, lighthouse catching their face in light briefly and letting Fernald take in the way their eyes crinkled when they smiled. There was so much affection there, something he never imagined he’d see on their face. They swayed to face him, looking back down at him before the lighthouse went out again.

“I’m really sorry. I don’t know why I’m getting like this, I’m totally killing the mood.”

“Hey, you’re fine. I’m having a good time.”

“I’m glad. I haven’t been on a date in a long time.”

Fernald’s mind went blank.

It felt like the lighthouse was moving too slowly, like they were in the dark for longer this time. Or maybe time had truly slowed down.

“I, uh-” Fernald swallowed. “This isn’t a date.”

Though he was standing right in front of Orlando, he couldn’t see their facial expression when he said what he said.

“Oh,” Orlando said simply.

They let go of his hook.

“No, it’s-” Fernald hesitated, because he only liked one person like  _ that _ , and that person was in international waters right now. “I like someone else.  _ We’re _ really good friends.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Orlando said, voice losing any of the color it had before. “That’s my bad. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

The lighthouse came back, and Orlando’s face was totally blank and slack the way it had been when they had first come here. Then, back into darkness.

“No, I’m not uncomfortable, I- I wasn’t clear about anything,” Fernald said quickly, pushing down the regret that was bubbling up inside. He wanted to backtrack, to say something that could make Orlando smile again.

“That’s okay, I understand,” they said flatly, and Fernald didn’t know what to say. “It’s cold out here,” they observed. “Maybe we should go back to the motel.”

He grunted in agreement.

Fernald shut up, heart racing as they walked back. Though he wanted to help Orlando back up the rocks that lead to the road back, he didn’t think they’d take his hand.

As they walked back along the path that kept getting lit and unlit by the lighthouse, neither spoke, and the deep discomfort Fernald felt was agonizing. He hated this. When had he started caring?

He needed to get back on track.

When the lighthouse came back, they saw someone walking ahead of them on the path, a silhouette that was just a little too far away to recognize yet.

“Are we still good?” Fernald asked nervously, focusing on the silhouette so he wouldn’t have to risk looking at Orlando’s passive, unfeeling expression again.

“I guess.”

Fernald chanced a glance back at them, watching their scarf flow behind them like a leaf forgotten to the wind.

“I like you a lot. I think you’re cool, but...I real-”

Orlando stopped walking.

“Sorry, I g-” 

“No, shh,” Orlando whispered, pointing. Fernald followed their gaze, looking at the silhouette up ahead. Whoever it was was hard to tell at first, but when they made a gross coughing sound, Fernald recognized them immediately.

“ _ Boss! _ ” he shouted, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face. Count Olaf turned quickly at the shout, but even as the lighthouse was off again, Fernald had broken into a run to meet him. The moment he was sure it was The Boss, he slowed down his run to a jog.

“Boss, you’re back!”

“Oh, it’s you,” The Boss said in that gorgeous, disgruntled voice. “What do you want?”

“We’ve been waiting for you here.”

“That works out great, the Baudelaires are here,” The Boss said thoughtfully. “I have a plan, but we’ll need a broom, and your very best french accent.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” he beamed, showing Olaf back to the motel. Pushing Orlando to the back of his mind, he showed Olaf into the room. Olaf took Orlando’s bed and explained his genius plan to assume the identity of Captain Julio Sham, and how this time he would definitely secure the Baudelaire fortune. Fernald nodded and smiled and listened, because The Boss was here and his whole world felt right again.

By the time Olaf fell asleep snoring, Fernald felt like he had forgotten something (or someone), but he brushed it off.

John opened the door to his motel room when he heard a knock, smiling when he saw The Henchperson of Indeterminate Gender.

“Hello,” he said pleasantly, not really taking them in on anything deeper than the surface level. If he had had Fernald’s trained eye, he might’ve noticed how their eyes seemed a little red, or how their lip was a little shaky. But he didn’t.

“Hey,” the Henchperson said, suddenly glad to see that ditzy smile. “Can I sleep with you?”

“Of course!” John nodded, stepping back to let them in.

The two laid back on the two beds John had pushed together, and as they settled in to sleep, he thought of something.

“Why are you sleeping in your room?”

“Count Olaf’s back,” they mumbled, facing away from him.

“Oh, great! There’s no pepper left in this town anyways.”

The Henchperson didn’t comment.


	8. What a Sight For Sore Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fight at the anxious clown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Putting a Spin on Heather" - Egg

There was a hurricane that evening, and not just on Lake Lachrymose.

While the Baudelaires struggled to find a way to get out of their brunch with Captain Julio Sham and Mr. Poe, the troupe had been sent to the kitchen to keep an eye on Larry Your-Waiter.

Normally, Orlando wouldn’t care all that much, but today felt different. After last night? Being rejected like that and then totally ditched the moment Count Olaf returned? God, this  _ sucked _ . 

All day long, Fernald had been trailing behind Count Olaf like a starstruck puppy. It felt worse when he saw Fernald get pushed around by Count Olaf. In the past, Orlando had thought  _ Pinky and the Brain _ to themselves when he watched the two. It had always felt uncomfortable, but now it felt awful to see the way “The Boss” would insult and discard Fernald, only for the hook-handed man to bounce right back up with the happiest smile. 

When they were in the marketplace talking about the famous Captain Sham where Josephine could hear, Orlando just didn’t have it in them to put on a convincing performance. That was alright, because Agnes and Miriam carried the entire production on their backs. They watched the Captain Sham seduct Josephine, calling out helpful phrases as needed to add to the ambiance. When Count Olaf started seductively licking his pipe, Orlando couldn’t help glancing at Fernald, who was watching in infatuation.

It made them feel sick.

And now, Fernald was acting like they had never known each other. He was speaking sternly to everybody, as if he was the director. Orlando had always hated plays like this, where the director’s favorite actor always assumed the role of assistant director, but after a week of being close and then being treated like  _ this _ ?

God, it sucked so much!

So, they distracted themselves the best way they knew how.

“Hi,” they said to Larry, sitting on one of the unopened crates by the stove and eating their bowl of soup.

Larry looked up from his work on the burger patties, skeptical and nervous.

“What do you want?”

“I know you’re just stationed here, but do you like cooking?”

“I like cooking as much as anyone,” Larry returned bitterly. “I don’t like it as much when someone’s holding a knife to my back.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Orlando nodded thoughtfully. “That’s really the problem with hobbies. Once they turn into your job, it just doesn’t have the same spark.”

Larry didn’t engage Orlando in conversation about that. That didn’t stop them from serenely watching him flip burgers.

“What do you think about the ethics of meat?”

Larry looked back up quickly, like he was unsure what kind of trick this was.

“Howso?”

“Like, just in general.”

“I’m a pescatarian.”

“Oh, neat.” But it made Orlando think of when Fernald and them went to market and talked about fish. Luckily, they didn’t need to talk about fish too much longer, because Larry had to take the food out for the Baudelaires and company.

“The soup’s really good,” Orlando praised when Larry returned. The clown waiter had sat down next to them on an unopened crate. While Larry’s mind was entirely on the Baudelaire’s situation, Orlando wasn’t too concerned. “Is it a recipe you’ve been doing for a while?”

“It’s canned soup,” Larry said, staring melancholy at the floor.

“Hm. Well, if it were me, I’d definitely cook the spices the first. You gotta chop up the garlic and onions and let them saute first, then you add,” they considered what would be good, setting down the empty bowl and playing with their sleeve. “More onions, capers, anchovies, diced parsley, and tomatoes, then you can add your broth and-”

“ _ Stop it _ .”

Though it made Larry jump, Orlando looked up very slowly at Fernald. The hook-handed man looked so  _ mad _ , and at  _ them _ . Orlando felt their own cheeks warm up, and they glanced down at the ground and sunk back into themselves. It was like being in the van all over again, back when Fernald would jerk the whole van just to make them shut up, they hated this aggressive treatment.

Fernald seemed to regret it immediately.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean t- I didn’t mean to shout at you,” Fernald said a second later, voice softening a little. “Just, don’t be so friendly to him.”

Orlando chanced a look up and felt their stomach swim. Fernald was looking at them with so much care, so much concern, it was like being right back on the beach. And that totally didn’t match the way he had been acting since Olaf came back.

“What’s it matter who I’m being friendly to?” they asked bitterly. “Don’t you have someone else to be friendly to right now?”

When it clicked, Fernald frowned.

“Are you  _ jealous _ that I’m paying more attention to The Boss than you?”

Larry was so uncomfortable, and when the phone rang, he left to answer it.

“You’re not just  _ paying more attention _ to him,” they snapped. “You’re  _ obsessed _ with him. It’s like the moment he showed up, I was-” they corrected themselves. “...the rest of us were dead to you.”

“Hey, don’t…” Fernald exhaled quickly, frustrated with Orlando’s take. “Don’t be like that. Is this about the date?”

“It wasn’t a date, remember?”

“Well, I shouldn’t have said that. It was.”

Orlando glanced up, a little startled.

“It was a date, but- using the word  _ date _ makes it feel so...I’ve never dated anyone, and I...The Boss is the most important thing to me, you know?”

Orlando looked back down, thumbing at their sleeve.

“He doesn’t think of you like that. He probably doesn’t even know your name.”

Fernald’s breath caught. He was silent for a second. Then his face got all hard again. Orlando recognized the sadness in it right away. He turned, shoving Larry away from the phone and trying to figure out who was calling, fully focusing being the scary henchman again and shouting at the waiter.

And Orlando stayed where they were, feeling very small and very lonely, because they knew they were right.


	9. Driving Away Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of the Lakeside Motel Arc -- Orlando and Fernald say goodbye for now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If I Ever Do You Wrong" - Joe Tex

Things had felt weird after they left the restaurant, and it wasn’t just watching Josephine get eaten alive by leeches that was sticking with Orlando. After everything, they really didn’t have the energy to stay sad and mad, because they understood what this was all about. When the van reached the Lucky Smells lumber mill to drop off Fernald, Orlando stopped him before he could go inside and assume his disguise.

“Could we talk about this week?” they asked, leaning out the van window. Olaf was preoccupied with talking the troupe through their next brilliant scheme.

“I don’t really know what there is to say,” Fernald returned, trying to keep up that mean face that Orlando had figured out how to see through. They saw that sadness hidden just below the surface.

“I don’t want to leave things like this. What I said in the restaurant was mean, and down on the beach-”

“No, no, you were right at the beach,” Fernald said quietly. “It was a date, it’s just-...”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t, I liked this week. I really like spending time with you, Orlando.”

They checked to make sure Count Olaf wasn’t listening, before softly saying: “I know you love him.”

It felt like agony to say out loud, but it was even worse when Fernald offered a sad smile and confirmed what Orlando already knew.

“If this all...once The Boss gets the Baudelaire fortune, we should spend some more time together.”

“I’d like that a lot,” they nodded, hesitating before adding: “Fernald, If you...if anything ever happens…” they considered it carefully. “I will be here for you. I promise.”

He didn’t say anything, but he did rest his hook over Orlando’s hand. They took it immediately, squeezing it.

“I mean it. If you’re happy like this, I won’t...I won’t push you. But if something happens and he’s not there for you when you need him most, I’ll be there.”

Fernald didn’t say anything, but he was looking at Orlando with the softest, gentlest eyes. Orlando let go of his hook, turning away to hide their pink cheeks.

“See you once you get the Baudelaire fortune?” they asked.

“Yeah. You go get home and water your houseplants, alright?”

“Yeah, I will,” Orlando nodded, hating how their heart melted because  _ he remembered that? _

So the van drove away, leaving Fernald at the Lucky Smells lumber mill.

While they drove away, Orlando looked back out of the rear window, remembering how it had been when they had first driven off in this van to escape the Montgomery mansion. They hated that Fernald loved Olaf so much only to keep getting rejected and taken advantage of. It felt so weird to see that, without Olaf, Fernald seemed like a different person. To see how dependent he was on “The Boss” was so weird.

But (and maybe Orlando was a bad person for feeling this way) it stung that when Olaf was gone, Fernald could be sweet with them. He could talk all day and express himself when Olaf wasn’t there, and that’s the thing Orlando hated Count Olaf for -- for making Fernald this dependent and people-pleasing. Making him lose his identity.

Before they had started driving that morning, they had found the brown-paper package in the back of the van labeled in the messiest handwriting “To Nurse”, and when they unwrapped it, it was a book from “Lost in the Hinterlands.” And they had cried, because the person Fernald had been without Olaf there was someone Orlando had already fallen in love with.


End file.
